Cold Fire
by ADemonInATeacup
Summary: Draco wants to leave. Go somewhere where he’d never be attacked or screamed at for doing things he could not refuse. Harry was angry. He hated how they talked about Draco behind his back and before him. Maybe it was for the best that they found a new place to go. !WARNINGS¡ Graphic descriptions of self harm and suicide throughout the book.
1. Like Flying

Draco Lucius Malfoy was drained.

He was back at Hogwarts after the bloody war, back in the place, which he used to call home, that he betrayed because of the fearful loyalty to his Father. The same man locked up in Azkaban for life, barely escaping the Kiss. The same man who always put Voldemort over his own family. The same man who ended up slaughtering his beloved wife when she refused to obey his orders and hand over their only son.

Long, sleepless nights plagued Draco as insomnia struck, carving deep purple grooves beneath his eyes. He felt like each and every one of his naive choices were merging into a ceaseless nightmare; his hellish life. Everyone glared at him in the corridors, after all, he was the only bastard death-eater scum to come back to the school after Voldemort died. He didn't even want to come back; the only reason he did being that the Manor was too cold, too dead and held too many memories.

Draco had given up.

Voldemort had taken almost everything from him in the short period of time he had stayed in the Malfoy Manor. It showed Draco just how little his Father cared about him, how more devoted he was to the Dark Lord than his family.

Of course, Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's special inner circle, had a young, innocent son. Of course, the boy knew nothing of what could be done to him. Of course, the boy was a Virgin, untouched by a girl or boy. Voldemort took everything from Draco, leaving behind only a broken shell of a boy hiding behind a splintering mask and weak facade.

Draco was tired, it was time for him to leave. Leave where? Only he knew. He had already taken the first steps forward, sighing as he felt the cooling blood run down to his palms. The blond placed one foot on the Astronomy tower ledge, before hoisting the rest of his body up onto it, leaving bloody hand-prints on the icy stone. Draco discarded his wand to the side - he would need it no longer - and turned around, his back facing the open air. He leaned back and his feet left the edge, taking him into the night sky, soaring high, just like flying.

Just like flying.


	2. The Tower

Harry had a feeling like a premonition or vision. It didn't burn his scar or make horrifying images of Voldemort viciously torturing people flash through his mind, no, it was more of a slight tingling sensation down his back, quite alike to when someone gently brushes something cold against the back of your neck. All he knew was that he needed to go the Astronomy tower, fast.

The brunet sprinted out of the Gryffindor tower, weaving through the crowds of students mulling around before their next lesson, taking the shortcut which shaved eight minutes off the fifteen-minute journey. Harry could hear Neville and Luna shouting behind him as he ran, but they didn't matter at the moment; whatever was going on at the top of the Astronomy tower did.

Quickly, the dark-headed boy lost his friends in the maze of corridors leading to his destination. Pulling his invisibility cloak over his lithe body, Harry cast a silencing charm and begin sprinting up the stairs, the power of the 'silencio' stopping the sound of his feet hitting the stairs reaching the top so that whatever was going on would stay interrupted until he knew it should be.

At first, he had no idea who was standing on the ledge, it was only when the figure turned around that he put all the features together; the white-blond hair, the creamy, milk-white skin, the darkening grey eyes that closed as the body fell down to the ground. Not even wasting a second, Harry jumped forwards, casting a cushioning charm at the ground of the base of the tower, Draco being too far down to even attempt a strong enough 'Wingardium Leviosa' to try and keep him up.

The porcelain boy continued falling down before hitting the ground once - bouncing up again - before crashing back down into the hard earth with a crack that Harry could hear from the tall tower above. Harry stared for a moment before coming to his senses and running down to the unconscious blond. The cushioning charm had only worked once at the force Draco hit it, saving him once from certain death, but he was bounced back up another ten feet or so and then hit the bare ground, leaving an imprint a few centimeters deep in the packed dirt.

Draco was breathing but barely. From Harry's extensive knowledge of injuries - which he constantly denied having come from experience - he knew that the blond had broken at least two ribs and possible his back from the second fall. Casting the levitation charm, Harry walked through the corridors, the unconscious boy trailing behind him, midair. The duo were lucky as there was no-one in the corridors as the day's final lessons had already begun, allowing Harry to levitate his partner through the halls without any fuss.

Since the war had ended, Harry properly accepted how he felt about Draco. Harry didn't hate him, no, rather the opposite in fact. Over the years of their 'rivalry', Harry developed a large crush on Draco. However, he knew that the boy he loved would never like him like that, so he pushed his feelings down into a small box and shoved it into the dark recesses of his mind.

Eventually, the brunet managed to get Draco's unconscious body to the hospital wing without any interruptions, taking longer than he wanted due to being unable to take any of his shortcuts and the risk of being seen by someone without the full story or an acceptable excuse on his tongue. Madam Pomfrey was always ready for any classroom accidents so she was already by the door when he entered. The medi-witch gasped when she saw the floating boy, immediately taking control of the spell and moving him to one of the cots in the bay.

"What happened?" she questioned, running diagnostic spells over the unconscious body and murmuring under her breath as she read the results. Harry recounted the story of the bad tingling feeling on the back of his neck and finding Draco jumping off the Astronomy tower.

"I'm happy you caught him, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy is severely underweight, dehydrated and has lost quite a lot of blood. I'm sure that even if he didn't try to jump and just continued on with his day, he would have died and I can't bear the thought of losing a child who I could have helped." Harry just stared at her, trying to process the knowledge that Draco was underweight, dehydrated and suffering from extreme blood loss. He was so stupid, how could he have missed the gaping cuts on the blond's wrists? His Draco was doing something terrible to himself - maybe not of his own accord - and he tried jumping, what could have lead to this?

No, Harry knew, it was because he was so loyal to his family that he stayed on the dark side, if only for his mother's sake. That's why everyone decided to ignore him, hate him and make him do this to himself, all because he loved his mother a little too much. Harry knew this had to change. But he couldn't do anything here. He knew he had to find a place where he could take Draco, far from England to help him and maybe even help himself in the process.

It wasn't like Harry was truly needed anymore, he was only needed to defeat Voldemort. Sure, he was praised, held on a pedestal, but Ron and Hermione had their own lives that they could now get to with the dark lord out of the way.The dark-haired boy strode out of the hospital wing, headed straight for the library to find any place which was far enough away from England that Draco would be safe from other wizarding folk and the memories. Harry was determined to find a solution.

The lights blinded Draco as he opened his eyes, his body aching all over, each limb feeling like it had been ripped out of place and violently forced back in. Where was he? Why was he here? Draco couldn't recall anything other than his name and a singular word; 'Harry'.

A loud beeping startled him from his thoughts as he came back to the present from the black abyss of his forgotten memories. Opening his eyes, he stared at the creamy white ceiling. Where was he? What was he doing? The last thing he remembered… nothing but pain and air rushing past his body. Various words floated through his mind; 'Slytherin', 'Voldemort', 'Harry', 'Father', 'Help', 'Harry', 'Worthless', 'Death Eater', 'Harry'.

He could feel hatred flowing through his memories, not from him, from them. But who were they? He didn't know. Draco stared at the ceiling as his body seemed to fight against him, his bones feeling like they were about to burst free from his thinly stretched skin.

Suddenly, a short grey-haired woman walked in, grey eyes widening in shock as she stared at the boy in the bed. Draco had begun to pull himself up, ribs and back sending stabbing pain through his nerves, a grimace on his face before he looked at the lady, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The woman carried a long wooden stick and had a floating tray behind her - 'How?' questioned Draco - which she moved to the table at the end of his bed. She waved the stick and the beeping stopped immediately. Lifting up one of the bottles on the table, she poured it into a plastic cup, placing it into the blonde's hands and motioning for him to drink before speaking.

"Mr. Malfoy," she began, clearing her throat, "I see that you've woken up." Pausing for a moment, she placed the strange stick on the tray and sat at the end of Draco's bed before continuing to speak. "You broke three of your ribs and fractured your left leg as well as partially fracturing the area of your skull just above your right ear. If Mr. Potter hadn't slowed your fall, then you would be in a much worse state." Here she stopped to wipe a tear from her eye. "Or you would be dead."

Draco was confused. Mr. Malfoy? Was that him? Who was Mr. Potter? "Excuse me, Ma'am, who are you?" he questioned politely, eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. The woman looked shocked, her face paling before she regained composure.

"Mr. Malfoy, what do you remember?" Her voice was serious and her face had turned stony.

"I don't remember much." The boy began, halting as he tried to think of what to say next. "I remember words. But, I don't know why they're there or why they're needed. Who are you? Who am I?" The woman's face was almost fully drained of blood as she listened onwards before she shook herself out of her shock and answered his questions.

"My name is Poppy Pomfrey, but you may call me Madam Pomfrey. Your name is Draco Malfoy." She said, before gesturing towards the cup in Draco's hands, silently urging him to drink it. The blonde sipped down the potion before his vision blurred to black, the purple potion taking effect and clearing his mind.

Harry had been in the Library for hours and it was almost curfew. Unlike him, Hermione and Ron had both decided not to take the extra year, Ron immediately going into Auror training and Hermione becoming the vice magical minister, preparing to take Fudge's role once her training was over.

The dark-haired boy had scanned through books upon books, more diligently than he had ever for any school project until he got close to finding something. His pile was hidden in the corner near the restricted section, out of view so that only he could use any of the books. It was a thick, leather-bound tome - which he had deftly stolen from the restricted section as had interested him - which was surprisingly light. The book had a small spike where the lock belonged which had stabbed into Harry as he picked it up, taking some of his blood and retracted, leaving a hole for Harry to stick his finger in and hook the book open. But before he had time to open it, Madam Pince had yelled at him as it was almost curfew.

Harry took the opportunity and opened it up. The book was hollow on the inside, the only thing in there being a scroll written in some unknown language, the symbols made up of lines. Harry could read Latin, French, and even Greek but the text was unlike any he'd seen before. Pulling a piece of parchment out of his school bag, he quickly scrawled a letter to Hermione, copying one of the symbols, before taking the scroll, closing the book and placing it back in the hidden alcove, and leaving the Library with a suspicious Madam Pince staring after him.

He ran up to the owlery as fast as possible, skidding past the rushing younger years in a frantic race to be there and back to the 8th year common room by curfew. After James, a large hazel-eyed tawny owl, flew away into the night and Harry arrived back before curfew, the boy almost fell into his bed, exhausted by his sprint.

Harry was partially confused as to why he copied one of the symbols or even bothered to steal the scroll, but he knew that if he was drawn to it like that then it must be important as his instincts were almost always correct. He knew, at least, that it most likely help information about someplace other than England, which would bring him closer to his goal. If he could find a place which had few or even no wizarding community, then Draco would be safe and he could even try to make him happy.

Contrary to popular beliefs, Harry knew what people said about the blonde behind his back, and how cruel they were, beating him and cursing him, even though he had done nothing wrong. Harry had a plan, and nothing could stop him from completing it.


	3. Investigating

Harry's letter from Hermione came two days after it was sent at lunch, James swooping down to the table to drop it in his lap. He finished his final mouthful before running back to his dorm room as his next lesson was a free period, so if she had information for him, he could research it at the Library. Enclosed, she included a small brown-wrapped parcel, which Harry opened to find an amulet within. The amulet was fairly heavy and had silver runes carved into it, the base being a smooth emerald green, slightly reminding Harry of Slytherin.

Harry,

The symbol you sent - which you 'desperately' needed me to figure out - comes from Japan. It is Kanji. Somewhere in the Library, there is a book on translation spells in both speech and writing as well as reading. The most help I can give you without being there myself is that it is on the shelf at the back left just before the restricted section. If you are able to find that without anymore of my help, then you will be able to translate it by yourself. If you can't, owl me back and I will help you translate it for now.

I enclosed an amulet which I've made - one of five at the moment - with the runes for healing, protection and fire engraved. I suppose that you will keep it on you, if only to quell my fears about you being alone (and the fact that you're researching things). The amulet itself is made out of holly which I believe is a nice fit, due to your wand being made of the same wood.

Stay out of trouble if you can and please don't go looking for fights with Malfoy.

Hermione.

The dark-haired boy quickly scanned the letter, picking out the important parts and disregarding the rest, before slipping the wooden amulet over his neck and tucking it into his shirt. Pushing the letter under his pillow, he checked the time; half of his free period was left.

He strolled into the Library again, Madam Pince staring, and made his way towards the back left. The first shelf he looked at was full of ancient myths and legends, the next gods and finally languages. Scanning the books, he quickly found the translation spell which would help him learn the language and discover what the scroll ment.

Yet again, he did not bother taking the book out, instead slipping it into his satchel and leaving with five minutes to spare until his charms lesson. Impatiently, he tapped his foot throughout the lesson, quite uncaring about the spell they were taught due to it being the second lesson for it.

He sped out of the classroom and ran to the Great Hall, barely stopping to grab a couple of rolls and skidded back to his private dormitory. Harry could finally find out what the scroll was! Sitting down on his bed, Harry opened the precious book, flipping to the 'Introduction' page, and scanning downwards.

Translation spells are fairly easy to master. They only need to applied once and the effect stays for the rest of the wizard/witch 's life.

"Down, down." Harry murmured under his breath, eyes flicking across the page, barely taking in the details until he finally found the two paragraphs that mattered in learning the root of the spell.

The spell changes for each language, so the caster must memorize many if they want to be able to speak, read and write multiple languages. The phrase 'interpretari me' is the root of the spell. Then added onwards is the latin word for which language you would like.

The wand movement is swish, flick, point, swish, flick, point (In-ter-pre-ta-ri me) for the root, with differences with the stems due to length and vowels.

The dark-haired boy then flicked to the page on Japanese.

Japanese: 'Interpretari me Iaponica.' [In-ter-pre-ta-ri me I-a-po-ni-ca]

A wand movement will be combined with every vowel, so for Japanese, this gives a total of eleven wand movements to remember in the right order. If one is wrong, then either the spell will not work, or harm will come to the caster and castee.

In - Swish Ter - Flick Pre - Point Ta - Swish Ri - Flick Me - Point I - Circle A - Whirl Po - Flick Ni - Whirl Ca - Point

The spell should be cast towards the recipient's own right hand side for optimum precision.

WARNING: This spell cannot be undone will a counterspell, so if the language is only temporarily wanted, this spell is not the right choice.

Harry knew that it was all down to this now, if he did it, he would discover whatever that scroll he was attracted to actually meant. Which in turn meant that his quest to help Draco was succeeding.

Draco once again woke up in confusion with a loud beeping echoing throughout the room. This time, he noticed that he had been moved to another place, the covers being different and the curtain around him new.

The plump woman - 'Madam Pomfrey,' he recalled - came through the curtains again, this time holding a tray laden with food. She began fussing around him as she spoke about her other patients. "Matthew and Katie are back in here again after another potions accident, and yet they're still allowed to work alone together without more supervision? How could the Professor allow something like that? Well, of course, he's worried about you Mr. Malfoy, but no more than Mr. Potter. Speaking of the boy, I'm quite pleasantly surprised that he hasn't come to visit you yet, after bringing you here and all." She paused, sighing a little as suddenly all the fire from her fast talking seemed to drain out of her body.

Suddenly, she was back to normal and began to fuss around the blonde, checking his temperature, blood pressure and wounds, rebandaging them as she went. "Right, it seems that you'll be able to walk around the grounds today rather than sit and sleep in bed! I'm sure you will thoroughly enjoy yourself. Now, I've left a shirt, robe, underpants, trousers and socks on the table beside you," Here she gestured to the small pile of black and purple clothing. "But to get shoes, you need to come with me to my office to measure you up properly. Now,

get changed whilst I grab your potions and began to eat."

With her final command, the stern lady left and Draco pushed himself out of his bed. His ribs and back still ached but the pain was barely there, only slightly nagging on his haggard nerves. As he pulled off his hospital gown, he noticed something strange. On his left forearm, there was a skull carved out of back with a snake looping around it. What was stranger was the collection of lines across it, his other arm and his stomach.

The marks were an array of colours, from a tan, brown colour to a silvery white. Draco pulled on his shirt, buttoning up the small black buttons with little difficulty, before he looked down to his legs. Once again, his upper thighs were covered in the marks, some thick and ropy with other so skinny and small that they were barely visible.

Once Draco finished changing, he pulled the curtains away before the question always nagging at the back of his mind pushed itself back to the front. Where actually was he?


End file.
